


L'Enfant de Damali

by Suikyou



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb is tired, Dancing, F/M, Widojest Week 2020, non-canon smut books, shades of Regency, standard Caleb self-hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25105765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suikyou/pseuds/Suikyou
Summary: Jester knows the waltz, but the dance in this new romance novel is both nothing like the waltz AND key to the plot. Luckily, Caleb knows exactly what the novel is referring to.Wonderful! says Jester. He can demonstrate then.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68
Collections: Widojest Week 2020





	L'Enfant de Damali

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [raynos](/users/raynos/) and [Canth](/users/CannedCoelacanth/) for a lot of hand-holding, cheerleading, babble tolerance, discussions of DnD spells and fantastic beta.
> 
> And thank you to the Widojest tag for a lot of comfort in some shit times. 
> 
> Get a drink and a snack, yall, this one ended up a wee bit longer than I intended. (Thanks, Jester!)

#### The Lavish Chateau

#### The day after the Fleet Party

"Hey Cayleb...?"

"Mmm?" Caleb looked up from his bread and soup, pulling himself out of the shroud of fog that'd been on his brain for the entire day. The last few weeks had seen the group of them accomplish quite a lot, much related to their personal histories, and there'd been relatively little downtime to regroup from those experiences. And on top of that, there'd been - Essek, the night before. Just - Essek.

He managed to focus on Jester, who had openly bribed him to come to lunch with a component pouch she’d picked up with Veth. The rest of the Nein had apparently already wandered off to whatever they meant to get up to, leaving the table to him, Jester and Marion. He’d been surprised to see Marion there, turned out in casual elegance, yet secretly grateful; he wasn’t the best company at the moment. 

"You know about historical stuff, right?" Jester asked.

"Oh, a fair bit," he said, tilting his head. Part of him wondered what she was getting at; the greater part of him knew better than to try to figure that out at this point. This was Jester; he just had to keep himself mentally loose enough for whatever she was about to throw at him. "What sort of historical stuff were you thinking?"

She grinned at Marion. "I told you, Mama! Caleb knows all kinds of things." She turned her attention back to him, and as always, there was almost a physical force to her attention, like she'd tossed a noose around his mind, and he couldn't help but be aware of it.

 _Rather grim, fitting as it is,_ he sighed to himself. 

"I've been reading this book," she said, pulling a small, battered book out of - somewhere, he really didn't ask about these things anymore. It was the kind of cheaper fiction that had pasteboard covers instead of being hardbound, and while there'd once been a drawing on it, the book had gone through so many readings that it was hardly visible through the cracks in the cover. "And it's a romance and it's so good, it's about like the Clovis Concord and the high societies of the Port Cities, and about this wizard in a tower who fights to keep her own territory so they want to try to marry her into these families, and to keep the peace she has to go to all of these balls, and she flirts and sleeps with so many people but no one has won her heart yet, and it's so cool, Caleb!" She fluttered her hands by her face. "Roxana, she is so - wonderful!"

Caleb kept his eyes on Jester and did not, absolutely did not, glance over at Marion; he wasn’t sure what expression would be on her face, given that the novel had obviously taken some inspiration from her as well as Yussa Erenis. As it was, he cleared his throat and asked, "It does sound very interesting, Jester. Perhaps I could read it after you have finished with it?"

A mixture of emotions washed across her face - eyes narrowed to eyes thoughtful to a sudden bright smile - and she said, "Sure, sure - when I am done with it. But - don't distract me, Caleb, I have to ask you about something in it!"

He couldn't help the hint of a smile forming on his face at this point. Alone in his room - waking up alone for the first time in such a long time, then - it had been hard to want to leave the comfort of his own head. It had been a little too long since he'd been able to indulge in that, and so very much had happened since that time. But now across from Jester at lunch, or at dinner the night before, he remembered why he had been capable of going so long without retreating entirely into himself. These friends of his, they gave back. 

"What are you curious about, Jester? I am not versed in the nitty-gritty historical detail of the Clovis Concord and the Port Cities, but - "

"It's about the dancing," she cut in. "The author takes all this time to describe the dancing, but I don't - it's not like - y'know. We danced." Her voice dropped in volume, as if she were sharing a conspiratorial thought with him, not reminding him of what an incredible embarrassment he had been when drunk.

He instinctively wanted to glance at Marion again and dropped his eyes to fight the impulse. "Something - not like the waltz, then?" He kept his voice relatively clear, but he couldn't help matching her volume.

"Yeah," she said, voice like a whip crack, and he could feel heat crawling up the back of his neck. "It keeps happening, these big formal dances, and they sound really cool but I can't get a good picture of them in my head? So I was wondering, Caleb, if you knew what they were or were talking about?"

It really was good to not have any expectations of how Jester's mind worked, and someday, maybe he'd accomplish that.

"Why would he know that, darling?"

They turned to look at Marion almost in sync, Jester's eyes flashing wide as if she'd forgotten her Mama was eating with them. Marion seemed unsurprised, just met their eyes with a calm, interested presence.

"Well - well, it's the book, Mama," Jester replied, gesturing with the book in her hand. "The wizard, Roxana, she talks about how when she was trained, she had to learn - compartment? Comportment?"

"Deportment," Caleb put in, as the pieces began to knit themselves together in his brain. Whoever the author was, they had done their research. The program of study at the Soltryce Academy presumed that those it trained were not going to be simple hedge witches or itinerant wizards, good for only parlor tricks. They believed that their students were going to be the kind of arcanists who - hobnobbed. Who would, indeed, label themselves "arcanists." Who would be taken into noble houses, or provide services for those on whom manners and rituals and traditions grew like thick ivy on the side of a brick manor. And since getting into the arcane program at the Soltryce was not an honor extended to many, they also assumed you would be in school for the full course, and so they started grinding those ideas into them as soon as possible.

Caleb had been in his second quarter of those sorts of classes when the first interview with Trent had happened. He had not spent much time in them after that.

"Yes, yes, that's the word! Deportment!" Jester crowed at him, then turned back to Marion. "And since Caleb had some training like that, I thought he would know what they were?"

Now he did look at Marion; the last time he had been introduced to her, Jester hadn't known much about Caleb's past. She did now, but that did not mean he knew exactly what Jester had told Marion about him. 

"You have mentioned such before, my gem," Marion replied, voice smooth. She favored Caleb with a kind look. "With your accent and ability, I had assumed that you had spent some time at the Soltryce Academy, and Jester confirmed that for me." She made a languid gesture. "Given some of who you spoke to last night, it would have surprised me more had that not been the case."

"You are quite wise, Frau Lavorre," he replied, inclining his head in understanding.

"Mama is the best," Jester said, pulling his attention back to her. "So Caleb, do you know what kinds of dances these are?" She shoved the book at him. "It's in chapters three and five, I think, the descriptions of them."

"Jester, I do not think - " Marion started as Caleb took the book, but Jester wagged her hand and cut her off.

"It's all right, Mama, Caleb's really smart and reads really fast," she said, then looked back to him. "Will you see if it's something you know, Caleb? Just real quick."

He took her in: eyes wide and bright, face slightly flushed and fangs showing a little from excitement, tail curving in the air behind her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marion raise her eyebrows, as if she wondered if he'd be drawn in just by that look.

 _And now she will learn what a fool you are,_ breathed the thought in his head. But of all ways that he'd been foolish for Jester, this was - relatively minor, really. A small thing to ask to feed that spark of joy in her. With what had passed, and what might be coming? It was not in him to resist.

"I will see what I can see," he said, thumbing open the book. "But - I cannot say for sure that this will be something I recall."

She grinned brightly at him and plopped back into her seat. He resisted the urge to grin back and focused on the pages before him.

Prior to traveling with the Nein, he had not been one to read fiction for fun; there was too much else in the world for him to learn, to know. As that hunger was one of the few things that kept the black ocean of his past quiet and still, he did his best to feed it. He had given in and read some of the books Jester enjoyed so much out of a rote sense of "this is how you make friends" - find common ground. But then he had started to enjoy the pleasure that came from sinking his mind into another world, one so alike and yet so much more simple than the one they lived in. It brought with it pleasant overtones of his youth, of his mother reading to him from one of their only books, a large tome of fairy tales and children's stories. Empire propaganda in a way, he could recognize that now, with its stories of people who worshiped forbidden Empire deities and their comeuppance by righteous Empire citizens, or the dangers of people trying to hide arcane knowledge from the Cerberus Assembly.

One of the first fragments of hope his mother had had for him was when, as a young child of five, he'd begun to read the book back to her with little prompting. A thin, somewhat sickly child with a keen mind could have a use, a bright future, and maybe the kind of life that would far surpass theirs.

He shut his eyes briefly to tamp down on those memories, then focused on the book once again. 

It took him very little time to see exactly why Jester would've been confused by the dances the author described in detail here. They were out of fashion these days, the court-style dances: country sets, cotillions, boulanger and the like. He had done more steps like them dancing reels during hometown festivals than he had in his deportment classes, though he had learned the basics, as they were still popular in elven courts. But given the rough time period of the book - he flipped to the first chapter to see if that had been listed, to confirm that it was a couple of hundred years in the past - they would have been in fashion at the time. And while there was a deftness and elegance to the writer's words, he could understand what Jester's imagination had missed. Raised in the era of the waltz, all of this talk of lines and hand passes, both men and women being twirled, would sound “pret-ty odd.”

He closed the book and looked up at Jester and her mother. Jester was showing her mother something like - was that clay, perhaps? - and talking about molding it into shapes. Marion watched her with a look of loving patience, the kind that was less about interest in what was being said and more about enjoying the presence of the person saying it.

He could relate to that.

And then, without missing a beat, Jester's attention was back on him. "So do you know that, Caleb? Is it something you've done before?"

"Briefly, but yes, I recognize the descriptions," he said.

"So what are they?" She leaned over the table towards him again. "They sound amazing, but I just can't figure out how it looks, y'know. In my head." Her ears twitched a little pattern, as if to show how her brain couldn't get it.

"Well, they're - hm." He paused, trying to think of how he could explain the dance without getting up and showing her, which wasn't going to be easy without a line of partners to dance with.

Except - wait. He didn't have to do it himself now, did he?

"I have an idea," he said, pulling up the component pouch she'd bought him. "One moment." He carefully unlatched the bag and laid it out on the table, showing off a multitude of pockets on the inside, some small, some large. He skimmed his fingers over them until he found the pouch of sheep's fleece, pulled it out, and held it up.

Then he paused. "Would it be all right, do you think, if I cast a little magic in here?" he asked. "Nothing too loud or flashy."

Jester's eyes lit up, and beside her, Marion's also flared with interest. "Any customers still here right now are probably sleeping," she said, "and the staff are used to my Thaumaturgy. I think it will be fine."

"Do it do it do it!" Jester crowed beside her.

He couldn't help a little smile at that, then looked around the room. The table they were sitting at was close to a more open section of the dining room. He pointed in that direction, rubbed the sheep's fleece in his fingers, and cast Major Image.

At sixth level.

He would sleep before they got on the boat. Besides, if he were going to flex his arcane muscles, why not just go all the way with it?’

It took a moment for the shape in his mind to resolve into the shape on the floor, but soon they came into view: a ring of dancers made up of four couples. He made sure to give them clothes, too, in as period appropriate attire as he could muster from his memories of such, because Jester would ask,. The figures came out a little hazy looking, faintly ghostly, and in that amber light that always seemed to color his mental images, but for this purpose, that was all right. He held them still for a moment while he added a touch of background music to the whole scene, then gave a wave as he mentally pushed them into motion. 

"Oh! Oh, this is the - that spell!" Jester said, pointing at the group.

"The one and the same," he replied, keeping his eyes on the dancers. The forms could be less vague, he supposed, but then again they were intended as a demonstration, not a recreation. He had done less with Silent, Minor and Major Image than Veth and Fjord had; at some point, he should perhaps play around more with the spell and how it reacted to his mental state. It paid to never be too careful about these things.

Jester got up from her chair and moved in closer to the group. To his surprise, Marion did as well, and he gamely stood and followed them both, coming to stand roughly between them. He tried to fix the illusion in his mind as he looked over at Jester taking it in, hoping to keep it from shifting to suddenly include a random tiefling lass or two; she would notice. And even if she didn't, he was fairly sure that Marion would.

Dances like this could last some time, and he watched as Jester's eyes took in the passes and turns without a word, soaking it up with delight on her face. It came as a little surprise, then, when Marion leaned over to him and said, "It's a cotillion, isn't it?"

"Pardon?" he asked, blinking at her.

The smile she gave him was kind, as if to soothe his confusion. "This dance you're demonstrating here," she said. "I recognize the steps - it's a cotillion, isn't it?" She tapped her chin with a gloved finger. "Though the music escapes me."

"Um - Zadash. I mean, it's the ‘Zadash Cotillion’," he said. "I did not realize you would know these sorts of dances, Frau Lavorre."

She favored him with an amused glance. "Jester forgets that I, too, have had lessons in - deportment." She tapped her chin again. "And I do recognize the steps here. I think I knew it as ‘L'Enfant de Damali’, though?" She gave a little shrug, and even that small movement had a grace to it. She had obviously spent much more time in her classes than he had. "Different places, different names."

"Wait, Mama - you know how to do this kind of dance?" Jester said, appearing around Caleb's side with such quickness he had to take a step back.

"I do, and many others like it," Marion replied with a fond smile. "The Chateau has entertained many kinds of guests, sweetling, in a variety of ways. But the last such dance as this, oh - you would have been very young when that happened. They are not held here as much these days."

 _And she prefers to entertain here,_ Caleb thought. He idly wondered if a younger Marion would have danced them more like Jester did, in bursts of energy and charming strength, or if she would show the same sort of grace out there as she had just standing next to him.

Jester, apparently, wondered the same thing.

"Oh I'd love to see that, Mama!" she said, clasping her hands together.

Marion's smile turned indulgent. "But Jester, I have no partner. And as you can see - " she tilted her head towards the amber lit dancers taking their quiet steps a little off the floor - he should fix that - "you most certainly need a partner to do this kind of dance. And I see no dance masters around here."

"Aww, but Mama - " Jester said, then turned, and her eyes landed on him.

_Ah. Shit._

Jester pointed at him. "You could dance with Caleb! He knows this dance." She made a little hand gesture. "Right, Caleb?"

He and Marion glanced at each other and then back to Jester. Their voices overlapped.

"It has been many years, Jester - "

"I'm sure he doesn't want to be bothered - "

Both paused and looked at each other again, as if to cede the turn to the other.

Jester took the turn instead. "C'mon Caleb, you remember everything, and you made the dancers do it so you know how to do some of it at least," she said to him, and then looked to her mother. "It's fine, Mama, Caleb is just gonna go read or something after this. And we have, like, a day and a half for him to finish all his books! I'm sure he can spare you a little time." She made a little hopping step towards her mother, clasping her hands together. "Please, Mama? I'd so love to watch you dance."

Marion had raised Jester. True, she hadn't seen her for some time, but she was a mother. He remembered how his mother was inured to his pleading in general. Surely Jester's mother would be the same, and that would be great, because it wouldn't have to be him trying to explain to her how this wouldn't work.

Then Marion looked over at him and held out her gloved hand."Would you care to dance, Mr. Widogast?" she asked, expression showing nothing but a hint of a twinkle in her eye.

_Ah. Fuck._

He looked to Jester, who gave him the happiest of tiny nods and little shooing hands to boot, and then looked back to her mother. He drew himself up and said, "It would be my pleasure, Frau Lavorre," and took her hand.

Her fingertips were properly light against his as they moved together to the space where amber colored dancers promenaded to soft music. They paused at that edge, and he murmured, "One moment, please," and snapped the fingers of his other hand. The dancers paused; the music went silent. He tilted his head towards her. "Where would you care to join the group, Madam Lavorre?"

Marion glided away from him to walk around the small group of dancers, the swish of her dress standing out against the quiet of the room. "Inner couples, outer couples," she murmured to herself, and then indicated the far left couple. "Perhaps here, Mr. Widogast, if it pleases."

He eyed the pair: two of the shorter dancers, holding hands out in front of them, crossed over. Mid-pass then, though he wasn't sure if they were moving forward or back at that point. But - it didn't really matter that much, did it, not when he could set the dancers at any point in the dance.

He nodded at them, and the two dancers vanished. He moved into their space, putting his back to Jester automatically, and Marion stepped in to fill the space across from him. Neither got into position. 

"The music, these dancers," he said quietly, indicating the amber-orange figures to his right, "they are all an illusion from the spell I've cast. So - you will pass through them, harmlessly, as we move through the dance. You cannot disturb them in their dance, as the pattern has already been set, and they cannot disturb you in any way, so do not - "

Marion smiled slightly, warmly. "No need to stall, Mr. Widogast," she murmured.

He took a breath, not meeting her eyes. "It has been quite some time," he said again, "and while the shapes I draw with my mind are reasonably accurate, I cannot say the same for my own personal footwork. The memory of the body is often - fickle."

She nodded in response. "I understand that, Mr. Widogast," she replied. "Just - remember to stay light on your feet. These are not heavy steps, nor excessively airy, but there is a finesse to it. It is better to be a little slow to our positions than too quick, so feel free to take a little more time to gauge the step than rush it. 'Gentle feet, gentle hands,' my instructors used to say, and so I remind you. There is no true lead here, in these dances, so do not be ashamed to defer to me on movement as - "

The undertone of anxiety was clear in her words, and he found himself smiling a little, settling a little. "It feels as if we both may be stalling, Frau Lavorre," he intimated.

She blinked at him, for a moment looking very like her daughter, and then she inclined her head to him. He inclined his head back; yes, they both understood why this was happening, and how they both were approaching it. That was at least somewhat comforting.

Speaking of reasons to do stupid things -

“Jester?” he called, turning a little to see her. 

"Yeah?" she sang out from the nearest table. She was seated on the far side of it, already bent over her - sketchbook. Yes. Of course she would have her sketchbook out. Of course she would record this.

 _It's just between her and that Fey god of hers,_ he sighed to himself. _Not like she's going to be making posters or selling prints of this - sort of thing._

"Can you count us in, Jester? Give us the go signal?"

The bell on her tail tinkled in delight as she grinned at him. "You got it! On three?"

He turned back to Marion. "Good on three?"

She nodded.

"Yes," he said. "Good on three."

"O-k! Three-two-one, dance!" she rattled off, staccato and with barely a pause for air.

As one, he and Marion turned to look at her.

She made a face at the both of them. "Fiiine, fiiine," she said, tone dismissive as she toyed with a pencil. "I'll do it slow-like."

"Slow as you can manage, Jester," Marion said, "please."

And then to him, she said, "Could you start the music again, Mr. Widogast? It helps to have it in mind as we start."

He nodded and tapped the air, an unnecessary flourish that was nevertheless helpful to them both. Music cascaded around them once more, the sweet and familiar strains of the "Zadash Cotillion." Or "L'Enfant de Damali," if you were on the Coast.

"Three!" Jester called.

He sketched a quick, formal bow of the arcane type, hands open and to the sides to show his relative harmlessness.

"Two!"

She curtsied back - a bend of her knees, dress pulled to the side, head nodded a bit - in a way seemingly simple but that also managed to suggest she was of a better class taking a modicum of a chance on him. He couldn't help a bit more of a smile at that; Marion had, indeed, taken more classes in deportment than him, if she'd gotten to the ones where you learned to silently remind people of their station. That got him a knowing smile back. 

"One!"

They stepped in closer and took hands.

"Dance!"

Caleb set the dancers going to their right as he made to move forward; Marion also moved forward at the same time, and there was a moment as their hands pressed and tangled together before they realized and stopped.

Behind them, Jester giggled.

Caleb flushed; Marion dipped her head, any blush hidden in the red of her skin. "I think we'll be turning down the aisle next," she said.

"I think - yes," he agreed, and the two of them turned to make their way towards the next illusory couple.

It quickly became clear to Caleb that the dance he'd spun out from memory was not one of the simpler ones, the kind with verses where you touched hands and passed around your partner and the person to your side, and then did a little side shuffle on the chorus as the other couples paraded past. No, this one had passes and behind-the-back handholds and _twirls_ and why, why did he do this kind of thing to himself? Why didn't he take a moment to consider what nostalgia had wrought on him and make things a little bit simpler? Why?

Then again, Marion hadn't suggested something else either, and he was fairly sure she had done this sort of thing far more recently than he had. It was - reassuring, somewhat, that Jester's spell had such a consistent effect on everyone; from charming the Martinet to her own mother Marion, no one seemed able to escape it. 

"Eyes up, Mr. Widogast," Marion murmured to him as they entered the final part of the first set of steps. The first time they had attempted this, they had pushed in at each other; now, following her lead, he floated forwards to twirl her about. She gave him a genuine smile as he easily cleared her horns - he'd yanked a little the last time to avoid them - and added, "Time to move to the center."

"After this, yes," he replied as she steered him backwards, then lifted her hands over his head to twirl him about. Marion was a smidge taller than Jester, perhaps an inch or so, and so he hunched to help her as he slowly turned about. Really, why had he remembered a dance with _twirls_?

He completed the step a little more in time and so was able to actually pass Marion to the center on time, rather than her having to move to it on her own. She didn't seem disconcerted by putting her hand up against the other illusions; it didn't seem to faze her at all to touch air instead of flesh. He - who had thought he had more experience - still found it odd to try to hold his arm as a link for a shape who would only pass through it, or to hold up his hand against nothing when it was his turn to join a ring in the center. The first times he'd tried, he’d ended up stumbling, and some of the illusions around him had mirrored the movement. It’d also, he was fairly sure, had gotten a hearty giggle out of Jester. 

He was so preoccupied with that series of thoughts that when Marion came back to him - linking hands behind the back, really, _why?_ \- and whispered to him, "I think you're getting better at this, Mr. Widogast," he was genuinely startled. He could see it reflected a touch in the amber-orange faces around him as well, so he was sure Jester must have seen it, too.

"Thank you," he replied in a low voice. "But that's less my skill and more your patient tutelage. It really has been - "

"You, as ever, do not give yourself enough credit, Mr. Widogast," Marion replied, blithely cutting him off. "My daughter has told me as much before, and I can see it now. Your body is remembering this just as mine is."

Any reply dried up on his tongue at that, and he could feel the color crawl up his neck again. "You are too kind, Madam Lavorre."

"Only when I see a reason for kindness," she said, "Mr. Widogast."

The color burned in his cheeks now, and he found himself glad that he did not need to concentrate on this spell to maintain it.

Marion chuckled softly. "Once more, here we go," she trilled lightly as they drifted for a third time into the step they had started on. This time, he lightly twirled her on time with the song; this time, he barely had to duck for her hands to go over his head.

Truth be told, she was right; he was doing better. The music in the air was part of his magic, the dancers around them were part of his magic, and his mind - his memory, really - had shaped them both. That memory was held in his body, too, and as they moved, it remembered, especially with Marion's gentle guidance. It helped her to help him; it helped him to be helped by her.

He had, in this stage of life marked by the name "Caleb Widogast," always done better when he played off someone else.

He wished he could take a moment to see Jester, to see how she was taking all of this in, her mother and her odd wizard friend dancing together in a scene out of one of her smut novels. Was she watching them and sketching? Had she stopped sketching to just watch this whole scene, as he and Marion found their marks on beat and with a growing amount of poise? Or had she gotten distracted by some other scene to sketch? But this wasn't the kind of dance where he had a moment to stop and look at her, not with the position they'd taken and the number of hand-offs and _fuckin' twirls_ ; he was trying to be a good partner here. Marion likely had a few more moments to glance over, but if she saw anything, she didn't seem to show it.

"See, you really do have it," Marion remarked as they took their turn to promenade the center line again. "Quite striking, for a wizard; most I’ve known don't seem to enjoy this sort of thing."

"Most of us prefer our dancing to not be with people," he replied with a slight smile. "But the pattern of it, the ritual - I find it soothing."

"Is that how you prefer to dance, Mr. Widogast? By yourself?"

The blush immediately burned up his cheeks. She chuckled quietly and squeezed his hands. "I'm sorry, I could not resist."

"And here I thought Jester had come to her sense of humor by way of her father," Caleb replied. "What a foolhardy assumption on my part."

"Jester is more than the sum of her parts," Marion said as they stepped to face the other dancers again. "As you all know, I'm sure."

"We do," he said, voice low, as he passed her into the center ring again. His position on the outer ring allowed him the moment now to look over at the table and see if Jester was still there.

She - was not.

He did the hand-to-hand passes that wound one set of partners through the others, around them and back to a central ring, wondering exactly where Jester could have gone, when a detail caught his eye. Was there - why did it look like there were four ladies AND Marion in that center ring?

He got his answer a moment later when one of the orange-amber ladies danced over to him and he touched soft, chilled skin instead of air.

"Jester?" he asked.

The cursory features held blank a moment, and then brightened in a smile as the figured tilted their head.. "Hiii Caleb," she said, hand squeezing his. She shook her head, and the orange-amber light sifted off her, leaving the grin showing fangs and her violet eyes bright against his. Around them, the figures continued their steps of the dance, some of them sliding right through Jester's tail as they did. "You and Mama looked like you were having fun, so I wanted to give it a try!"

He looked over Jester's head to see Marion now standing outside of the circle. She tucked her hands under her elbows, tilted her head, and smiled ever-so-gently at him.

 _Ah._ Fuck.

"So how do we do this, Caleb?" Jester asked as the dancers continued to move on around them. She looked between him and them, eyes narrowing, the contact of her palm still cool against his.

"Were you not watching?" he asked.

"Oh, I was," she replied in an airy voice, flashing him a quick smile, "but the watching and the doing are two different things, _ja_?” 

He felt the flush creep up the back of his neck again. He seemed destined to spend most of this dance with his face matching his hair, and he wondered if this was something Caduceus would have factored into his destiny. Or if he just would have considered it a "known," given how perceptive the cleric was.

" _Ja_ ," he agreed, and then stepped back, pulling her gently away from the group of dancers. "Perhaps we should watch a moment and then join them?"

"Oh, but then we're not _doing_ it, Caleb," she said, a hint of stress in her voice. "And after you and Mama did so well, I was hoping - "

She cut off, but he barely noticed, not with the figure of Beau cackling in the fore of his mind. _Stay on task, Widogast,_ the mental Beau crowed, wiping at her face.

Right. _Right._ This was teaching, wasn't it? And teaching was something he enjoyed doing, even if this was out of his usual field of interest. Still, the methodology could be the same: observe, then interact. She had observed a little already, so.

"How about this, Jester," he said, and steered her off to the left, close to where he and Marion had begun their steps in the dance. "How about we watch one turn, and I will talk you through what our role will be, and then we can join in? Just so you have a good picture of it."

"Mmm." She tilted her head, considering, and then suddenly squeezed his hand. He'd almost forgotten it was there, and was now very aware it was.

"You control everything about the illusion, right?!"

"Yes."

"So - what if you made it slower, and we did that, and then you sped it up, and we can do a full turn, like you and Mama?" She grinned up at him. "Y'know, so you don't trip over nothing like you kinda did that one time."

Ah. So she had seen that.

But more than that, it was a good idea, and he found himself looking up at Marion across the way, whose smile had broadened a bit. That would have been a great thought for the two of them as well, huh?

"Ah. That is a good idea," he said.

"I know, Caleb, it's why I suggested it," she replied with a grin. "So - you can do that?"

"I can do that, yes, but - mm." He let go of her hand and put a little distance between the two of them, pulling his head a little more back into order. He pushed down the specters in his head - Beau grinning knowingly, his hands coated in blood and soot - and concentrated on the music there. It was a spritely tune, “ L'Enfant de Damali,” and he needed a moment to pull the tempo down to something a little more stately. Then, he reset the dancers to a similar position to the one he and Marion had started in, only this time, at the point where he and Jester would promenade down the center aisle. No need to repeat those _twirls_ just yet.

He moved back to Jester's side where he'd started, and her hands eagerly found his. He steeled himself; he had already made a fool of himself with her mother, so this could not get much worse. He was perfectly sober, too, and certainly not about to go spouting off about old...memories...again. Nor was he likely to get himself into a new kind of trouble in that same vein. 

Jester squeezed his hands. "Caleb?"

He gave her a nod and squeezed back. Then, he held up his head, straightened his back, and let the illusion resume.

The music washed over him, and the dancers began their slower steps. It wasn't slowed down that much, but hopefully it would be enough for Jester to pick up most of what she needed to follow along. To enjoy this personally, not just from the sidelines.

"Down the middle first," he murmured to Jester as the inner dancers split to form a pathway for them. He moved forward in the bouncy, light step these dances called for; Jester dragged a little behind, not quite with the beat or the movement.

"Lightly, Jester, lightly," Marion called from outside the circle. "A little more on your toes."

"Okay, Mama," she called back, and with almost a lurch pushed forward, pulling them both to the other spot on the floor. "And now?" she asked under her breath.

"We, uh, circle," Caleb replied, trying to shift in that way. Jester gave him a confused look, though, and didn't budge. "We sort of - turn around," he clarified.

"Oh. Okay." She craned her neck over her shoulder to look at the other pair of inner dancers, and then began to shuffle herself - and him - in a similar fashion. "Like this?"

"Um, yes. Mostly so."

"That's not very helpful, Caleb."

He felt his mouth thin; he was finding it hard to concentrate on being a teacher here, her teacher, when her skin felt so - _present_ against his. Marion had worn gloves where Jester didn't, and so he had been able to focus on the other embarrassing things he was doing in the moment. Jester's hands were bare, though, the skin cooler against his than just cotton. It made him feel like his hands were blushing against hers somehow, and that made the rest of him want to flush in response.

 _On task, on task, focus,_ he mentally chanted to himself, then said, "It takes some time to get the feel for it, Jester, much like the waltz." A pause. "And now we turn around, fully."

She gamely began to shuffle with him, though less around the central point of their hands and more kind of turning him in place. Still, she had already started to move a little more on the beat, and that would make all the difference. "This feels kind of silly."

"Oh, _ja,_ " he agreed. "But it makes a beautiful pattern."

Her head tilted up towards him, but before she could say anything, it was time for the next section of the dance. The figures weren't complicated, but they did split the pair of them up. He would hand her into the inner circle to do a half-turn around, after which they would split out to the opposite partner for a turn about; then, they would come back to the center for another half-circle back to their original partners, who would then take their turn in the inner circle . It was not a set of movements he could give easy instructions for, and he wished for a moment that he had asked Marion if she could call the moves for the dance, as many of the more complex dances had callers to boost the memory of their participants. But that would also depend on Marion and Jester knowing the names of those movements, so it probably wouldn't have worked out that well. 

"To the center and around," he said to Jester as he stepped back, one hand pulling back from hers as the other steered her forward.

She seemed confused for a second, and then let out a little "Oh!" and swept into the center, hand coming up in a mirror of the amber hands around her. She gave a jaunty little skip as she completed the half-circle, and then easily moved to take the phantom arm of the figure across the way. Caleb half-heartedly did his steps with his ghostly partner, mostly keeping an eye on Jester, and so caught the grin she shot his way as she spun about. His breath caught, and for a moment he felt as if the world were just the two of them: her lovely and animated, him gawking at it.

Then he blinked, and she was back in the center, that same little skip in her step; another blink and her hand was coming out towards him, cool fingers sliding along his again. 

"You look surprised, Caleb," she teased as they did the somewhat awkward - awkward seemed built into so many of these transition steps - shuffle to get him moved towards the center. 

"You did that beautifully, Jester," he replied as he stretched into the hesitant position of still holding her hand while reaching out with his other.

"Well, of course," she said, and there was laughter in it.

He didn't respond as he joined the other figures in the center for this circle and turn and circle back round again.

"That was how I joined you and Mama," Jester said as his hand found hers again. It was the most consistent contact he'd had with her outside of being healed - possibly ever? possibly - and the constant coolness of her touch was a marvel that made his mind fuzz at the edges. "So of course I knew that bit."

She glanced around the circle and added, "But I don't really know this part, sooo?"

"Ah! Right." He had moved to her far side as she spoke, and now he raised their joined hands to a level right about his head. "And now you, um. Step around me."

She gave him a suspicious look, but said, "Ookay, if you say so." She was a little behind the beat, but it didn't matter much with how Jester did things, and he had to focus to keep himself doing his step, which was to bob on the beat. 

She giggled at that, even though the movement let her hand pass easily over his head. He had a strong suspicion that hers was not the only laugh he heard, either, and he could feel that flush creep up his features again. It was good, he decided, that he was going to spend some time by himself in the coming days. He was going to need it to recover from this dance, not to mention everything else that had happened recently. 

"On the far side of me, stop, and take my other hand," he said, using the instructions to focus himself as much as her attention.

That got a faint noise from her, but she did as he said. Their other hands found each other, a mite clumsily, but still managed to latch on in a second or two. Her nail scraped across his wrist, and another tiny bit of his brain squeaked into steam.

"And we walk," he said, voice somehow still sounding calm, and together, they moved forward. Jester had caught the general light feel of the steps of the dance now, though her pace was still off; then again, so was his, given the slowed music against his memory. But it was fine enough.

"Nice, Jester," he said as they came back to their position's starting point.

She beamed at him, not just in joy but with an archness to it, that hint of pride that came to the surface with her so often. But it wasn't until they had moved into the next step - a  
single hand turn around each other - that she said, "See? I told you I could do it."

"I did not disagree," he replied as they finished the first turn. He put up his other hand so they could rotate the other way, but instead of taking it, she pressed her hand flat to his, palm to palm. He continued to move into the turn, knowing the surprise - and that damn flush - showed well on his face.

"Roxana keeps doing this in the books, too," Jester told him, leaning in a little. "I wanted to try it while I had the chance."

"That, uh, does bring up a point, Jester," he said as they finished the turn. He pulled his hand back from hers and made a little motion in the air that stopped the movement and music. "This starts us from the beginning, here, of the steps. Did you still want to do a full-turn of this, at full-speed?" He smiled a little, doing his best to project warmth rather than cocktail of emotions currently sloshing around him.

Her eyes went wide. "Of course, Caleb! It'd be fun to do the whole thing!" She paused, then stepped back and looked at Marion, who had taken a seat at one of the nearby tables. "Unless this is too disruptive, Mama?"

Caleb had a feeling Marion looked at him then, just for a second, but in this moment, he staunchly held eye contact with her hand on the table top. Jester's perception was fine-tuned but tended to have a blind spot when it came to herself; Marion, though, would see all. And he had no confidence in what he was projecting at this moment.

That hand lifted and gave a gentle wave. "I do not think so, my sapphire. The dance is not that long, and lunch is not even over yet. You are fine for now."

"All right," Jester replied, voice sunny. "Oooh, ooh, Mama! Would you want to join me and Caleb? You could dance with both of us!"

"Or you could dance with her alone," he offered. As much as he had been - mostly - enjoying this experience he had not meant to have this morning, it only felt fitting to turn the good memory back over to the two of them.

"Don't be silly, Caleb, that'd just be weird," Jester replied, making a shooing motion at him with her offhand. "It'd be really fun though, Mama, if you joined us!"

Now he raised his eyes to meet Marion's, approximately, and did his best to look earnest. No matter his misgivings on how Jester's childhood had gone, he knew it had not been because of who Marion was, but rather the situation she had found herself in. Marion loved Jester wholeheartedly, and if there were a chance for the two of them to have more moments together, he was going to do what he could to encourage it.

Marion looked between the both of them, and there was a kind of keenness to her eyes that made Caleb immediately want to look away. He didn't, though he shifted in place, fingers tensing and relaxing at his sides. Her fingers tapped a moment on the tabletop, and then she said, "My Jester, I am not sure -"

"Madam Lavorre," he slipped in, smoothly interrupting as she took a breath, "it would be my pleasure to have you join us."

Her chin lifted, and the golden light in her eyes seemed to shift.

He glanced over at Jester, who caught his eye with a smile. He made a rising gesture with his right hand a couple of times, and her smile crinkled; then, her eyes flashed wide in understanding, and she nodded quickly back at him.

He looked back to Marion and lifted his hand, extended in invitation for her to join them; a second later, Jester did the same, only with more of a flourish. "Please," he said, and she echoed, "Please, Mama?"

Marion seemed to freeze for a second, her brilliant eyes caught on the scene before her. Then, she looked down and shook her head. "How am I," she said, pushing up to her feet, "supposed to refuse that sort of invitation?"

Jester let out a happy squeak and latched onto his arm, knocking him out of the poise of his pose. "This is so great!" she cheered, squeezing his arm, then abruptly letting go to scoot back to the place where she would start the dance.

"Would this be fine, Mr. Widogast?" Marion asked, moving to the illusory dancing pair to his right. She glanced at the frozen amber forms, then added, "I could take the place of the whole pair, too. No need to maintain that part of the spell."

"Are you sure - " He indicated where he'd be standing next to Jester. "I can step into the secondary role, let you take this position." He looked back to Jester. "If you wouldn't mind that is, Jester."

Jester looked between the two of them, and a soft look washed over her face, one he wasn't sure if he could put a name to. Wistfulness, perhaps? "Sure, Caleb," she said, voice quieter. "That'd be fine, if Mama is fine with it."

At times like this, he wished he were a little more perceptive of emotions, rather than just reading the ticks and tells he'd been trained to. His insight wasn't terrible, but sometimes - now times - the data seemed to conflict with his intuitions. He knew he'd offered her just an extension of what they'd both offered to her mother, something she wanted; he felt like, somehow, he'd just hurt her feelings.

 _And you've known her so long,_ he thought with a sigh. _No wonder your read on Essek also failed._

"No," Marion said, cutting through the mesh of his thoughts, "I think I am fine right here." She moved closer to the illusion, and he dropped that bit so she could take its place. "The party last night was delightful, but tiring, and I am older than both of you. Have patience on my weary bones."

"That's a little thick, Mama," Jester said as Caleb moved back to her. She caught Caleb's eye and exaggeratedly rolled hers. "You're not _old_."

He did not point out that she had called _him_ old, and he was surely younger than her mother; he was fairly certain he understood the point both were making past each other. He did not envy Jester that eventual discussion.

"Be that as it may, Jester, it was still a tiring night," Marion replied, a faint smile on her face. Her eyes shifted to him. "Have you everything set, Mr. Widogast?"

His eyes shut a second as he rearranged the illusion around them. As she had requested before, he let the music start before the figures began to move, this time at its full tempo. "You did want to do a full turn at this tempo, yes?" he asked Jester.

She nodded and took his hands, her grip firm and cool and turning part of his brain to mush. "I'm ready," she said. "Mama?"

"I am good."

Jester squeezed his hands and grinned up at him, a look he couldn't help but catch. "You can go now, Caleb, we're both ready."

"A second." He took in the music again - lilting winds over soft strings - and let it sit in his mind, like a sugar cube dissolving on his tongue.

Then he nodded to set the illusion back going, and the dance began again.

Jester hadn't really done this series of steps - they had paused things before that - but he guessed correctly that she would look towards her mother, and Marion was there with a hand out as he slipped behind her towards his illusory partner. And what did it matter if Jester didn't quite get the handhold, as she did when it was his turn to turn her about? She still smiled, and her eyes were still shining bright. It was still the kind of mental picture he would keep and cherish, photographic memory or no.

He suspected Marion thought so, too, given the extra squeeze she gave him on their pass together. 

While Jester had not done these starting steps, she had done everything else in the dance, and even at the normal tempo, she kept up pretty well. What she lacked in finesse and easy grace, she more than made up for with her enthusiasm. Between him and Marion, they got her through most of the steps at mostly the right time, and that would certainly be enough to give her a taste of the kind of dances she'd been reading about. Possibly he could find her a book at some point in the future that talked about these kinds of older court rituals, or maybe a young ladies primer from about this time, one she would certainly mock to no end. Perhaps before he left, he could talk to Marion about such a thing - 

They entered the final series of steps: Jester and Marion’s rings, his rings, and then the move to the final half-circle. He, Jester and Marion flowed through this series with surprisingly little effort: Jester and Marion gracefully touching hands in the middle before flowing out to opposite sides, giving him a moment to dance Marion in circle before it was back to the center again; Jester handing him in for his circle with only the slightest bit of extra strength, as if she were pushing him to catch the beat rather than shoving him into the center. Around and out, around and back, to catch Jester's hand one more time and slip to the outside as she raised the pair of them over his head and began to dance around him.

Except instead of going into the half-turn promenade that would take them to the beginning of the dance again, she just kept going around him, shimmying in a distinctly non-court approved style as she moved with the beat.

"Um," he said, as amber-orange illusions began to swish through them.

"I like this part, Caleb, it's fun," she said, adding in a quick spin outwards, their hands breaking apart for a moment before her fingers caught his again, and she continued to shuffle-shimmy around him. She went for another spin once at his side, this time inward; that was enough to break their hand hold and push her into him, so much so he had to catch and steady her with both hands.

"Careful with that fun there," he murmured, his hands at her waist, hers on his sleeves, their faces turned towards each other. For a moment, the world around seemed to narrow to the two of them, the gleam in her eye and the soft curve of her mouth.

He let it hold for a moment, just a moment. He'd read some of those books, too, and well - he'd indulged her this much. Even though he certainly wasn't the object of that kind of affection for her, he could still - give her this.

_Just for her, huh?_

Then quickly - stiffly - he let her go, stepping back and making a sharp gesture in the air. The amber-orange glow around them faded out, though he left the music running. It gave him the correct feel so that he could turn to Marion and execute a formal arcane bow: fingertips touching his brow for a moment before extending his hands out to her as he bowed his head, palms open and flat at his sides as if pushing back a cape. He held it for a proper three seconds, then straightened and touched his hands, finger tips overlapping, to his collar.

Marion sank into a formal curtsy in reply: hands holding back imaginary thick skirts as she sank from the knees, head dipping down as she held the pose a moment, then rose with the same intricate grace. She was smiling as she rose, though, and it didn't feel indulgent; rather, it felt like an understanding look, perfect for the moment.

He turned to Jester then. "My lady Roxana - " he began.

She laughed and shook her head, cutting him off. "No, no, Caleb, I'm not a wizard!" she admonished. "You'd be the lady Roxana. I'd be...hmm." She made a show of tilting her head right, then left, then right again, as if she needed to weigh her answer against a thousand unknown criteria.

"Xythyra," she finally pronounced, holding out her hand. "Champion of the people and secret rogueish thief, stealing hearts as well as purses from nobles." She arched one eyebrow. "Though Roxana isn't sure of that second bit yet."

"Well." She had her hand out, which meant that the same formal bow he'd given her mother was out of the question. So he took it - again - and bowed his head over it, other hand assuming the formal, open handed wizard pose. He tossed the numbers in his head about what gender that name would be tied to, then gave up and went with the neutral as he raised his head and addressed her. "Good Xythyra, kind of heart, your dancing and company were excellent."

She dimpled at him and looked - as the saying went - pleased as punch. "Lady Roxana, Keeper of Tide Peak, your dancing is as grand as your reputation," she replied, her voice low and breathy, her eyes taking on an almost sultry cast. "I hope we may meet on this floor again soon."

 _She is certainly quoting from the book,_ a calm, quiet corner of his brain said. It, however, did not have any communication with the parts of his brain that made him blush, and he could feel the color creep into his cheeks yet again. Trust Jester to get him coming and going on this.

It only lasted a moment, though, before she pulled her hand back and gave an excited clap, turning to her mother. "And you were amazing, too, Mama! I am so sad I missed those parties where you danced like that!"

"I must admit, I have missed dancing like that," Marion said.

"Oh really? It is so much more complicated and less close in than the waltz, though," Jester replied, and he didn't need to see her face to know she was wiggling her eyebrows.

"True, dear, but," and he watched as a mischievous glint came into Marion's eye, "you do get to try out so many more partners this way."

"Very true, Mama," Jester said, and they both glanced over at him.

The flush that had started to recede threatened to climb right back up to his eyebrows again. He needed to get out of this room before his face just permanently became that color.

Fortunately, it only lasted a moment before Jester began talking about all the new pictures she could draw for the Traveler now, and oh! she had done a quick sketch of Mama she should see before she went back to her rooms! Which Caleb took as his sign that he should make his good-byes and go.

"Frau and Fraulein, I also need to return to my work," he said, giving a little nod to both of them. "So if you will excuse me?"

Jester had already started to move towards the table, but pulled up short at his voice. "Will you be down for dinner, Caleb?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It has been - some time since I have been able to attend to my studies on my own, Jester," he said. "I think it will likely consume most of the rest of our time here."

Worry creased Jester's face, but Marion quietly said, "It's not a problem, Mr. Widogast. I will let the kitchen know to prepare you a tray that you can come get on your own time."

"That would be most kind of you, Frau Lavorre," he replied.

"The Chateau is understanding of those who need their own space," she said. "Just please, bring it back down before it gets too late."

"I assure you, that will not be a problem."

"Caleb always knows what time it is, Mama," Jester chimed in. "He'll be fine to do so."

She paused for a moment, and then moved between the chairs to get close to him again. She reached out and his hands found hers again, in a different way than the dance, yet familiar to other moments before that. Other, kinder moments. "I know last night wasn't the easiest on you."

He took a breath and nodded. "No," he said. "It wasn't."

She squeezed his hands. "Thank you for doing this with me," she said, voice low and gentle. "It was fun."

The world seemed to narrow to the two of them again, her light against his darkness, and once again, he allowed it to touch him. He shouldn't - he was so terrible - but he couldn't help himself. "I am glad I could help, Jester," he said, squeezing lightly back. "And - you'll bring that book with you on the boat, _ja_? I'm more curious than ever to read it."

She grinned and nodded. " _Ja_ , I will," she said.

"Okay."

"Okay."

The world broadened again, and he let go of her hands.

She whirled back towards the table, and he found himself smiling ever so slightly at her retreating form. A moment later, he realized there was someone else at his side as well, eyes turned in the same direction.

"She has such energy, my daughter," Marion sighed beside him. "Sometimes I see her and wonder, was I ever that young?"

"I am not so far off, I believe, and I sometimes wonder the same thing," Caleb replied.

Marion laughed, and it drew his eyes to her. "Still hasn't told you her age, has she?"

He shook his head.

Marion smiled. "And why would she? She is, after all, my daughter. The power she understands best comes from my world." Her face took on a reflective quality, and her shoulders slumped slightly, and Caleb felt for a moment how the weight of that kind of world would sit on a woman's shoulders. "And I am glad to see she is finding her own strength outside of that."

"She is strong. Stronger than many of us give her credit for," he said. "But - I was always taught that the foundation first laid is how strength is built. What she shows, the strength she embodies now, is because her foundation supports it. And for that, she gives you most credit."

The reflectiveness of her face sharpened on him, her chin tilting up in that examining sort of look again. He met it as best he could, hoping the voice rattling around in his head whispering _and you tore yours down, you burned yours away, your foundation is forever scarred_ didn't show under her keen eye.

If it did, she didn’t react to it. Instead, her mouth curved in a slight, warm smile, and she laid a hand on his arm. "Thank you, Mr. Widogast," she said. "For this today, and for all you and your friends do to keep her safe. I know my girl is in good hands with all," her hand squeezed slightly, "of you."

Once again, there was a flavor to her words he could detect, but couldn't identify, like an unfamiliar spice in a familiar dish. "Thank you, as well," he said. "And - I was wondering, Frau Lavorre - "

"Hm?"

"Would it be possible - would you perhaps be free tomorrow, for a short period of time? Today has, uh, made me aware of some things I should talk to you about. That, um, could be - important, going forward." He paused, wondering if he should specify any further, though Jester would likely interrupt if he got too into the details.

She grinned brightly at him and squeezed his arm again, a little harder, before letting her hand drop away. "I have been waiting for one of you to ask such a thing," she said. "Perhaps in the afternoon tomorrow? I take a private tea at that time, so it should be just the two of us."

He had missed something; she had been waiting for what? But before he could try to clarify things, Jester called out, "Mama! Come look at this sketch!"

"That - that seems fine," he said. "I will likely be in my room."

"I will send someone to fetch you when I am ready," she replied. She reached up and patted him absently on the cheek. "Y'know, I had figured it would be the sailor. Shows how some things can even surprise me."

Then, before he could make heads or tails of her meaning, she turned away and headed over to where Jester sat at the table. Jester barely looked up before pushing her sketchbook towards her, and a moment later their heads were bent together over it, and that was that.

He took in the scene for seven seconds, then turned and gestured, finally shutting down the spell completely. In the now quiet of the room, he made his way as quickly as he could through the various tables and chairs out the door and towards the stairs leading upwards. It was time for time to himself, and that was time he badly needed. There was so much to sort through in these past two weeks, and what would help most was a project he could throw his brain at so it would stop thinking about all those other things and running itself in circles.

The collar. He could definitely spend his time working on the collar. He had plenty of magic left over for that today, new component pouch included, and the task of bending his mind against something out of the Age of Arcanum would be wonderfully distracting.

And if he did his work while sometimes humming “L'Enfant” to himself, well, there'd be only Frumpkin to notice, and the familiar was used to far worse from him.

**Author's Note:**

> RegencyDances.org is the place for all your Regency dancing needs, and one that kept me from tearing my hair out when really digging into the dance sequences. 
> 
> The dance featured here is the" Strasbourgoise Cotillion," with its alternate title taken from a French song of absolutely no relation, "L'Enfant de Strasbourg (La Strasbourgeoise)." It was chosen, truthfully, because it was one of the first Regency dances I could find on YouTube; and, much to Caleb's chagrin (and eventually, mine own), because I liked the twirly bits. 
> 
> The follow-up is in progress.
> 
> Thank you for reading, lovelies <3


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